اصل بول
ENترجمہ ابھی دستیاب نہیں۔ اصل بول دکھائے جا رہے ہیں۔
Downhill, downtrodden left a slave
New day on the verge to find the grey
Floors swing and slope downhill to bring
Middle grounds set on wavering
Two sides to flip and coax a blink
Lying on the fence, on the brink
Dealt an empty hand-opposed to delete any bridge to stand
Polarized this side
Shades display this trade off
To buy halfway games to bore my days
End of my phase today
I'm not willing to meet in the middle
End tragedy, solve the riddle
And disspipate (sic) ideals of indecision
Pipedreams like these will cease and die
Unleashed, my past, this face, removed, replace
And now my phases die this time
Grey fades...too late...unveiled my mask
What's right is not balanced-you're tripped by the intent to stretch
Searches coerce a mesh, but facts still remain to refute the quest
I'll fight just to stay unbalanced-if that equates to remaining stagnant
I'm no longer the same as the halfway days, no time delays
You wanted to know why I'm different, why I refuse to open my mind
Because that relative stance is inadequate to fulfill what I need inside
Many souls on the brink of collapse inside the midst of these so-called answers
So eager to embrace those pipedreams so lost and neglecting their only real chance
So willing to hinge in the balance, your state is so desperate, so blank
So empty and left with this notion that doesn't hold water or weight
It's dark or light so decide and face
